it's all about me... right?

My small group has been reading through Isaiah. We've been especially struck by how much God hates pride, His condemnation of those who live as though there’s nothing wrong when things are very wrong, and our smug self-centeredness. In addition, I’ve been feeling somewhat fearful about the future of our nation. Conservatives forecast dark days ahead and their predictions can discourage even the most optimistic among us (which I am not!). On top of the economy, the war in Iraq, our lingering presence in Afghanistan, the tension between Iran and Israel, the elections, and the doom of the first half of Isaiah (we discussed 15-24, last night), for the last week I’ve been making my way through a video on the early Church. Yesterday it concluded with the crucifixion of Peter, beheading of Paul, children being fed to dogs, and the general persecution of Roman Christians under Nero. And I became very afraid (not to mention that when I fell down the stairs, last month, I was faced with my wimpishly low pain tolerance. I remember sitting in a heap at the bottom of the stairs, trying to steady my breathing, and thinking that I'd totally renounce Christ if ever tortured, and that I'd never manage to have a child without an epidural).

And then like a brick it hit me that the persecution I feared for the future is a present reality for much of the Christian world. Present. Meaning that it’s happening now. Happening not even to strangers, but to my “brothers and sisters.” Yet I don’t really care because it doesn’t affect me, personally. In Amos 6:1-7, God challenges His people (who are currently living comfortably in Jerusalem and Samaria) to look around them at the cities that have already fallen to the Assyrians. “Do you really think you’re so much stronger than them?” God asks. “Hello! If they’ve already been destroyed, why in the world are you still thinking that nothing bad is going to come to you?” (my paraphrase). He then condemns them for going about their lives- enjoying nice furniture, eating good food, buying non-essentials like nice lotion- not caring about everything that’s happening all around them, because they aren’t personally experiencing pain. Yet. For their complacency, God says that they will be the first to be taken into exile.

In Isaiah 22:12-13 and then 24:7-8, God seems to be critical of those who are enjoying this life. But God gave us all of these good gifts, right? Doesn’t that mean we should just enjoy them and be grateful? But then I thought about James 4:9: “Be wretched and mourn and weep. Let your laughter be turned to mourning and your joy to gloom.” That sounds a lot like these verses in Isaiah. But why? Again, He created a good world for us to enjoy, right? I was so confused. And then it hit me: right now, the world is NOT good. Right now God has permitted evil to reign and the whole creation is under a curse. Right now, I think I’d have to agree with God’s state-of-the-world address in 24:5- “The earth is also polluted by its inhabitants, for they transgressed laws, violated statutes, broke the everlasting covenant.” And then all of the sudden the beatitudes made sense to me, for the first time in my entire life (italics are my additions):

Blessed are the poor in spirit who walk humbly before God- for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

Blessed are those who mourn that this is NOT the way things are supposed to be- for they will be comforted when all things are made new.

Blessed are the meek who are unassuming, don’t demand their rights, and humbly serve one another, following the example of their Master- for they will inherit the earth.

Blessed are they who hunger and thirst for righteousness to govern this earth- not just personal holiness, but the righteousness and justice upon which the world was founded. Blessed are they who long to see justice come to those who abuse power and wealth to oppress others because they think that no one will stop them. Blessed are they who recognize that there are limits to the laws of supply and demand, that the invisible hand does not inevitably provide for the needs of societies’ most vulnerable members. Blessed are they who long for an equitable distribution of the earth’s resources- for they will be filled when the Lord judges the earth, which He certainly will do.

Blessed are the merciful who extend mercy to the undeserving, because they understand the extent to which God has had mercy on them- for they will be shown mercy.

Blessed are the pure in heart who are not distracted and seduced by their natural desires, but wholeheartedly want to see God’s kingdom come. This includes seeking God’s kingdom MORE than personal comfort- for they will see God.

Blessed are the peacemakers who walk in their Father’s footsteps of working for peace and reconciliation- for they will be called sons of God.

Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness’ sake- for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

We are supposed to be living as foreigners, here. We are aliens. This is not our home. This is not the way life was supposed to be. We close our eyes to the injustices and pain of the world, much as the Israelites did when the surrounding nations were being crushed by Assyria. We turn off the news because we don’t want to hear any more about wars and rumors of wars in the Balkans, suicide bombings in the Middle East, stonings in Africa, hostages taken by terrorists, aid-workers killed by radicals, converts mutilated by family members, pastors’ families beaten with iron rods by the governing authorities, Church leaders being sentenced to years of reeducation in labor camps, and Christian schools collapsing on hundreds of children. We turn our heads, close our eyes, turn off the television, and forget about it all. We lay down on our beds inlaid with ivory, eat our choice meats, drink our wine, use our lotions, and refuse to create space in our hearts to mourn for Jacob. Because the destruction has yet to reach our front door, we ignore it and enjoy our lives, pretending that we are living in the good world that God intended. But we’re not. I don’t have the answers. I don’t know how we should live when our brothers and sisters are suffering and we are not. But I know that we cannot continue living as if nothing is wrong. We cannot. We must not.

First they came for the communists, and I did not speak out-
because I was not a communist.
Then they came for the socialists, and I did not speak out-
because I was not a socialist.
Then they came for the trade unionists, and I did not speak out-
because I was not a trade unionist.
Then they came for the Jews, but I did not speak out-
because I was not a Jew.
Then they came for me-
and there was no one left to speak out for me.

written by Martin Niemoeller, a German Christian, in 1945

little girls?

I’m feeling nauseous. I’m SO angry. Tonight I went to the dance recital of one of my precious 6th graders. Her number was very cute, thank the Lord. She was great. The others, though, weren’t so stellar. The show opened with a group of older girls in red tangoing to “Roxanne” from Moulin Rouge. Now, I'm not criticizing the song, itself, but the context. There were LITTLE, LITTLE kids there and it was SCARY- for ME! And I'm 28! It was dark, the girls were in red, the setting of the song is in a brothel, and it was SO loud and violent sounding. I was really unnerved. Then, unbeknownst to me, one of my little 2nd graders also participated. Innocent, beautiful, full of life, precious, precious, precious 2nd grader. Her group danced to Mambo # 5. Mambo # 5! Now, a group performed that same song while I was a student at Taylor, so I know I can’t be too judgmental (though I was mad at them, too!). And honestly, it’s VERY catchy. I have a hard time not liking it, as a matter of fact. And maybe he’s not talking about getting with Jessica, Monica, Tina, Rita, Mary and all the other girls. Maybe he is really just saying that he wants to flirt with them… all night long. Maybe. So let’s say it’s a really innocent song. But come on- second graders? WHY would anybody with half a brain teach second graders to act like Cuban show girls? I mean- it was SUPER cute, if you aren’t worried about their chastity and future identity as young women. Really, it was. But is it worth it? Let the little girls be little girls, for goodness’ sake!

So I was already a bit piqued about the innocence of my precious Camilla. And then another one of our 6th graders entered as an Arabian belly dancer. Yes, that’s right. 6th grade. Arabian belly dancer. I refused to take pictures. And I gotta say- they were GOOD. They were really good. If I was a man… how can I say this… I wouldn’t have been thinking of them as the 6th grade CHILDREN that they were. That was when I felt physically ill. And honestly, the way they danced took a LOT of talent. But why in the world would you teach them to use such incredible talent for THAT? I don't know- maybe somebody could start a special pre-marital dance studio or something. But 6th graders? It was unbelievable. I left midway through. The girls I came to see had already performed and I was just done.

OK. That’s my rant. I really did try not to be judgmental. I asked myself if it were possible that cultures could celebrate the sexuality of the female body without it being sinful. I asked myself if I’m just being a prude. And then it struck me that a few of my wonderful, godly friends are dancers and have probably learned such dances. And that maybe I’d be a mom, someday, and my little girl would want to dance. And I hope she can. I wish I could dance. But would it mean that she’d be exposed to THAT? Would it be worth it? And then I thought of the time I had to decide whether I’d play a character in a high school musical that had to swear. And then I thought of Jennie, who I’m sure has had to reconcile such things. When is art just art? And when is culture just culture? And when does it not matter, that being art or culture doesn’t make it acceptable or good? I know there’s not a simple answer. Well, I don’t think there is. But if anyone has any thoughts on the topic, I’d love to hear them.




And just for the record- something that struck me several weeks ago- it’s interesting to me how our society both advertises women’s sexuality and complains that they are objectified. Hmmm. Which do we want people to notice about us- our bodies or our brains? Because they sure won’t be struck by our brains on first glance. Unless we’re frumpy. Then they may assume we’re really smart. I ask because it seems a bit inconsistent to draw their attention to our sexuality while demanding that they treat us as asexual beings. If we want an egalitarian society, than maybe we should consider not running around half naked. And men- if you really want to be liberated... or liberating... why not make a conscious decision not to give special treatment or attention to the hot girls? Just a random thought from a boring Puritan.

Let us Rejoice and be Glad

Come, let us sing for joy to the LORD; let us shout aloud to the Rock of our salvation. Let us come before him with thanksgiving and extol him with music and song. For the LORD is the great God, the great King above all gods. Come, let us bow down in worship, let us kneel before the LORD our Maker; for he is our God and we are the people of his pasture, the flock under his care. Psalm 95

Sing to the LORD a new song; sing to the LORD, all the earth. Sing to the LORD, praise his name; proclaim his salvation day after day. Declare his glory among the nations, his marvelous deeds among all peoples. For great is the LORD and most worthy of praise; he is to be feared above all gods. For all the gods of the nations are idols, but the LORD made the heavens. Splendor and majesty are before him; strength and glory are in his sanctuary. Ascribe to the LORD, O families of nations, ascribe to the LORD glory and strength. Ascribe to the LORD the glory due his name; bring an offering and come into his courts. Worship the LORD in the splendor of his holiness; tremble before him, all the earth. Say among the nations, "The LORD reigns." The world is firmly established, it cannot be moved; he will judge the peoples with equity. Let the heavens rejoice, let the earth be glad; let the sea resound, and all that is in it; let the fields be jubilant, and everything in them. Then all the trees of the forest will sing for joy; they will sing before the LORD, for he comes, he comes to judge the earth. He will judge the world in righteousness and the peoples in his truth. Psalm 96


This morning, let us praise the Lord and rejoice in the day that He has made. Let us thank Him for setting Barak Obama before us as our president. Let us thank Him for sovereignty placing this man in this position at this time. Some of us wanted him to win. Others did not. Let us thank Him that we live in a democracy and had the opportunity to make our voices heard. But now the choice has been made, so let us thank the Lord and honor our government. We prayed that His will would be done. And it was. For those of us who believed that God’s will was to elect McCain, and cannot imagine otherwise, are we really claiming to know the mind of God? Obviously, His will was for Obama. His thoughts are higher than our thoughts, and His ways higher than our ways. For there is no authority except that which God has established. The authorities that exist have been established by God. It is inconsistent to call ourselves Bible-believing Christians if we refuse to believe that God willed Barak Obama into office. And if we fail to honor and respect him, we are disobeying the express Word of God. If God calls us to serve as prophets in our nation, may we be faithful to that call. But may we refuse to be agents of self-fulfilling prophesy and naysaying. If Obama appoints liberal judges to the Supreme Court, let us thank the Lord that he holds in His hand the heart of the king. If American professionals are forced to choose between their convictions and their jobs, let us thank the Lord for the opportunity to suffer with Jesus’ body all around the world, that we may, someday, share in His glory. If life gets harder, let us rejoice that trouble produces perseverance and we know that nothing can separate us from the Love of God that is in Jesus Christ our Lord. Let us do everything without complaining or arguing, that we may be blameless and pure children of God, without fault in a crooked and depraved generation, in which we may shine like stars in the universe as we hold out the word of life. So let us keep a tight reign on our tongues and meditate upon that which we learned in kindergarten: if you have nothing nice to say, don’t say anything at all. But no worries. We have lots of nice things to say, because the earth is the Lord’s and everything in it.

Knowing

Wow. I haven't been a very good blogger, lately. It's not that there's nothing to say... it's just that I haven't had the words or creativity to say any of it. Something's coming, though, I can feel it brewing. Sometime in the next few months, I'll be writing about the Emergent Church, specifically reviewing what I remember of Rob Bell's Velvet Elvis and Brian McClaren's A New Kind of Christian. We had an incredible, incredible SIM women's retreat, this last weekend, and talked about it, a bit, so I'd like to articulate some thoughts. But I can't be bothered with all of that, just yet, because I'm into all of the end-of-the-school year jazz, end-of-Paraguay-jazz, preparing-for-the-next-step-jazz (i.e. grad school applications and car shopping), reading up on election news, and irresistible Skype calls. Did I mention irresistible Skype calls? And on top all that jazz, Joel Rosenberg's Dead Heat is consuming (ha!) every "spare" moment I have. But no worries. At the rate I'm going, I'll know how the world ends by tomorrow evening, at which point I may find time to blog. Until then, though, I just came across something I wrote back in March 2008 that may serve as a backdrop to the Emergent Church stuff that I post, later. Thanks for reading :)

Knowing

March 25, 2008

I used to know a lot more than I do, these days. I knew how to be a good Christian. I knew how to inductively study the Bible using the historical grammatical method. I knew the difference between inerrancy and infallibility, and how all scripture was God breathed and good for teaching, rebuking, and training in righteousness. I knew the difference between the civil, moral, and ceremonial codes of the Torah, and that we only have to follow the moral ones because we’re not a theocracy and because Jesus fulfilled the ceremonial part. I knew that God demanded the genocide of the Canaanites because of the cancerous affect their idolatry would have on the purity of Israel’s worship to YHWH. I knew that the conquest was a physical foreshadowing of God’s final judgment. I knew that Israel’s social injustice and spiritual idolatry ticked God off and sent them into exile. I knew that Ezekiel saw His glory depart and then return only with the incarnation of Jesus. I knew that the Sermon on the Mount was idealistic and impossible to keep. I knew that I was saved by grace through faith, because I had believed in my heart that God raised Jesus from the dead and confessed with my mouth that He is Lord. I knew how the Church sold out during the era of Constantine. I knew that I could never participate in such things as the Crusades. I knew that Martin Luther was a hypocrite and anti-Semite. I knew that Hitler used Luther’s speeches to in support of killing off the Jews. I knew how 1948 was a fulfillment of OT prophesy. I knew, though, that God was not pleased with Israel’s treatment of the Palestinians, and would certainly hold them accountable. I knew why the US trade laws needed to be changed. I knew why debts needed to be cancelled. I knew why Christians should never be Rich in an Age of Hunger. I knew that churches shouldn’t remove people from positions of leadership because they were going through a divorce. I knew that girls should never, ever get into the horizontal position with their boyfriends. I knew that Mormans and JWs were certainly not going to heaven, themselves, and were barring multitudes from entering. I knew that missionaries should never impose their home cultures upon indigenous churches. I knew that US Christians should give all their money to starting these churches, yet shouldn’t allow them to become dependant upon foreign money. I knew that missions was to be incarnational, meaning missionaries were supposed to be poor, yet missionary children should never have to actually suffer for their parents’ choices. I knew that God willed that family always comes first. Always. I knew that I, personally, was responsible to free sex slaves in Asia, sweat shop workers in India, Israel, Palestine, coffee growers in Africa, and child soldiers in South America. And I needed to save people from AIDS. I knew so much.

Except Jesus. Sure, He was my Savior. But I didn’t know Him. Since then, everything has changed. Now, I hardly know anything. Anything. Except Jesus. Somehow, I believe that He is merciful and loves me. Somehow, I believe that this love causes Him to point out things in me that are serving as a barrier between us. Somehow, I believe that this love knows my desire to do right and know Him. Somehow, I believe that He knows that I know that I don’t know and He’s ok with that. Somehow, I believe that He knows about my craving for Him and craving for my flesh, yet my desire to let it go, yet my fear of being without it. Somehow, I believe that He is my Shepherd and will unstop my ears so that I can hear and recognize His voice. Somehow, I know that He knows I am just dust and has mercy on me, this rich, spoiled, selfish, wimp of a white girl who is desperate for Him. Somehow, I hope that He won’t let me go to hell. Somehow.

I used to have so many beliefs that tethered me to God as ropes hold a boat close to the shore. I never strayed far, and everyone thought I was really close to God. And I was, geographically. And often times in content, too. But now most of them have been compromised. In their place, God has thrown me a single chord stronger than all the others. But it’s the only one. If I lose it, I’ve got nothing else. I’m scared. And yet comforted. Let us fix our eyes, then, upon Jesus, the author and perfector of our faith, who is surely able to do more than we can ask or imagine, and keep us from stumbling and present us before His glorious throne without fault and with great joy.

an ode to my sister

The following is actually something that I wrote in July '06, but in light of a few recent conversations with full-time moms, I thought I'd re-post it. You all are my heroes.

At the end of this year’s family vacation in California, I told my sister that the next blog I do would be called, An Ode to my Sister. Spending the entire week with her, her three little boys, and her husband, I was constantly awed by her selflessness. Good moms are nearly always on the clock. They don’t have the luxury of leaving their work at the office. They are always in charge. They are always Mom. Always. And the thing about my sister, is that she never ever complained. Her boys would never know they were wearing her down to the bone. She never made them feel like a burden. Never. She had amazing self-control. I can’t even begin to count the number of times my feelings of frustration and exhaustion would have gotten the best of me. But not Danielle. She always smiled. She always spoke kindly. Even on the plane ride home, after an entire week of running, she sat between her 3 and 4 year old and played with them the entire 4 hour plane ride home. She is my hero. I always talk about how I want to be more like Jesus. Well, for all of my reading, serving, presenting, and teaching, I pale in comparison to my sister, the stay-at-home-mom. And really, when I see the cost of completely giving up my comfort, time, goals, self, for the sake of others, I’m not sure I really want to be like Christ quite that badly. It’s one thing to talk about dying to Self when you know you always have the choice of whether or not you want to die. Danielle surrendered the right to chose the moment she had kids. Dying isn’t optional for her. She never just checks out and goes to her room when she needs some time alone. She’s always on the clock. Always. She is my hero.

more inspired by merton stuff

Hey, all. I just read an exciting article on BBC. In light of my last post, I thought it appropriate that I pass it on to you. Check it out and let's be sure to be lifting up the Synod, the Catholic Church, and the Italian people in prayer, this next week! Remember Isaiah 40:8- "The grass whithers and the flower fades, but the Word of the Lord stands forever."

http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/europe/7653456.stm

Also, here's the amazon.com link to Merton's book, should anybody be interested. But remember my warning- it's not for the faint at heart. It probably took my 5 years to get beyond the first 50 pages! :)

http://www.amazon.com/Seven-Storey-Mountain-Thomas-Merton/dp/0156010860/ref=pd_bbs_sr_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1223254402&sr=8-1

merton quotes

Last week I finished a great book that I’ve been trying to find the motivation to read for several years, now. My uncle had recommended it and I’d bought it, probably back in 2002, but every time I picked it up it bored me to tears so I never made it very far. This time around, though, I couldn’t wait to read it, every night. So instead of giving a summary, which would be impossible to do, I’m just going to share a bunch of my favorite quotes. To give you a basic framework, though, this is a spiritual autobiography. Thomas Merton wrote it in his early 30s, 6 years after entering a Trappist monestary (a very strict order in the Catholic Church). Since I’m sharing so many and you may not want to read them all, I’ve put my favorites of my favorites in bold :) Now, for Merton, himself…

[Languedoc, France] was long wild with heresy, and with the fake mysticism that tore men away from the Church and from the Sacraments, and sent them into hiding to fight their way to some strange, suicidal nirvana (43).

And Catholics, thousands of Catholics everywhere, have the consummate audacity to weep and complain because God does not hear their prayers for peace, when they have neglected not only His will, but the ordinary dictates of natural reason and prudence, and let their children grow up according to the standards of a civilization of hyenas (56).

Who prayed for me? One day I shall know. But in the economy of God’s love, it is through the prayers of other men that these graces are given (109).

The love of pleasure is destined by its very nature to defeat itself and end in frustration (117).

I went into the dark, austere old church, and liked it. But I was scared to visit the monastery. I thought the monks were too busy sitting in their graves, beating themselves with disciplines (125).

But Providence, that is the love of God, is very wise in turning away from the self-will of men, and having nothing to do with them, and leaving them to their own devices, as long as they are intent on governing themselves, to show them to what depths of futility and sorrow their own helplessness is capable of dragging them (136).

I, whose chief trouble was that my soul and all its faculties were going to seed because there was nothing to control my appetites- and they were pouring themselves out in an incoherent riot of undirected passion- came to the conclusion that the cause of all my unhappiness was sex repression!... Day after day I read Freud, thinking myself to be very enlightened and scientific… I don’t know if I ever got close to needing a padded cell: but if I had ever gone crazy, I think psycho-analysis would have been the one thing chiefly responsible for it (137).

I don’t know how anybody who pretends to know anything about history can be so naïve as to suppose that after all these centuries of corrupt and imperfect social systems, there is eventually to evolve something perfect and pure out of them (150).

[I was] like so many others- a Communist in my own fancy- and I would become one of the hundreds of thousands of people living in America who are willing to buy an occasional Communist pamphlet and listen without rancor to a Communist orator, and to express open dislike of those who attack Communism, just because they are aware that there is a lot of injustice and suffering in the world, and somewhere got the idea that the Communists were the ones who were most sincerely trying to do something about it (150).

And that was the end of my days as a great revolutionary… The truth is that my inspiration to do something for the good of mankind had been pretty feeble and abstract from the start. I was still interested in doing good for only one person in the world- myself (164).

(in describing his cross country days at the university) Perhaps I would have been more of a success as a long distance runner if I had gone into training, and given up smoking and drinking, and kept regular hours (173).

The life of the soul is not knowledge, it is love, since love is the act of the supreme faculty, the will by which man is formally united to the final end of all his strivings- by which man becomes one with God (209).

How deluded we are by the clear notions we get out of books. They make us think that we really understand things of which we have no practical knowledge at all. I remember how learnedly and enthusiastically I could talk for hours about mysticism and the experimental knowledge of God [note- academically/ theologically speaking, mysticism is that part of spirituality where the individual has a personal relationship/ experience with God. Merton is here referring to what is typically assumed to be commonplace in evangelical Christianity.] and all the while I was stoking the fires of the argument with Scotch and soda… all one night we sat… in a big dark road house outside of Philadelphia, arguing and arguing about mysticism, and smoking more and more cigarettes and gradually getting drunk. Eventually, filled with enthusiasm for the purity of heart which begets the vision of God, I went on with them into the city to a big speak-easy where we completed the work of getting plastered (224).

I had come, like the Jews, through the Red Sea of Baptism. I was entering into a desert- a terribly easy and convenient desert, with all the trials tempered to my weakness- where I would have a chance to give God great glory by simply trusting and obeying Him, and walking in faith, the way that was not according to my own nature and my own judgment. It would be a land that was not like the land of Egypt from which I had come out: the land of human nature blinded and fettered by perversity and sin. It would be a land in which the work of man’s hands and man’s ingenuity counted for little or nothing, but where God would direct all things, and where I would be expected to act so much and so closely under His guidance that it would be as if He thought with my mind, as if He willed with my will. It was to this that I was called. It was for this that I had been created. It was for this Christ had died on the Cross, and for this that I was now baptized, and had within me the living Christ, melting me into Himself in the fires of His love (248).*

The only answer to the problem is grace, grace, docility to grace (225).

If you don’t want the effect, do something to remove the causes. There is no use loving the cause and fearing the effect and being surprised when the effect inevitably follows the cause (255).

There is nothing wrong in being a writer or a poet- at least I hope there is not: but the harm lies in wanting to be one for the gratification of one’s own ambitions, and merely in order to bring oneself up to the level demanded by his own internal self-idolatry (258).

“I can’t be a saint,” I said, “I can’t be a saint.” And my mind darkened with a confusion of realities and unrealities: the knowledge of my own sins, and the false humility which makes men say that they cannot do the things that they must do, cannot reach the level that they must reach: the cowardice that says: “I am satisfied to save my soul, to keep out of mortal sin,” but which means, by those words: I do not want to give up my sins and my attachments (260).

America… is a country full of people who want to be kind and pleasant and happy and love good things and serve God, but do not know how. And they do not know where to turn to find out. They are surrounded by all kinds of sources of information which only conspire to bewilder them more and more (269).

I had accepted Lax’s principle about sanctity being possible to those who willed it, and filed it away in my head with all my other priniciples- and still did nothing about using it. What was this curse that was on me, that I could not translate belief into action, and my knowledge of God into a concrete campaign for possessing Him, whom I knew to be the only true good? No, I was content to speculate and argue (265).

… the world [of 1939] had now become a picture of what the majority of its individuals had already made of their own souls. We had given our minds and our wills up to be raped and defiled by sin, by hell itself; and now, for our inexhorable instruction and reward, the whole thing was to take place all over again before our very eyes, physically and morally, in the social order, so that some of us, at least, might have some conception of what we had done (271).

Once again, classes were beginning at the university. The pleasant fall winds played in the yellowing leaves of the poplars in front of the college dormitories and many young men came out of the subways and walked earnestly and rapidly about the campus with little blue catalogues of courses under their arms, and their hearts warm with the desire to buy books (283).

The monestary is a school- a school in which we learn from God how to be happy (409).

[on the virtue of Gregorian chant] Instead of drawing you out into the open field of feelings where your enemies, the devil, and your own imagination and the inherent vulgarity of your own corrupted nature can get at you with their blades and cut you to pieces, it draws you within, where you are lulled in peace and recollection and where you find God. You rest in Him, and He heals you with His secret wisdom (417).

There was, I could see, something of a difference between the community proper and the nocices. The monds and the professed brothers were more deeply absorbed in things that the novices had not yet discovered. And yet looking around at the novices there was a greater outward appearance of piety in them- but you could sense that it was nearer the surface. It can be said, as a general rule, that the greatest saints are seldom the ones whose piety is most evident in their expression when they are kneeling at prayer, and that the holiest men in a monestary are almost never the ones who get that exalted look, on feast days, in the choir. The people who gaze up at Our Lady’s statue with glistening eyes are very often the ones with the worst tempers (420).

*When I read things like this, or the writings of the saints, and then hear my fellow (non-Catholic) believers talk about how Catholicism is an impersonal works-based religion, I want to laugh, cry, and scream at the ignorance and smug pride of this assumption. I’m sorry. I know that I’m talking to many people that I dearly love and highly RESPECT in most areas. And know that I’m not judging YOU, but this part of evangelical, Protestant Christianity in which many of us have been raised. And I know that it's really not a Protestant issue, either, but a human nature issue. That's just the way we are. So if you’ve made these kinds of statements, I don’t think it’s a reflection of your heart, but of the Christian culture in which your beliefs about God have been formed. But really, you just don’t know what you’re talking about. I used to think the same thing when my beliefs about Catholicism were based upon what I'd learned from Protestants, as opposed to from Catholics, themselves. I know I’m idealistic. And yes, there are many, many, many Catholics who haven’t a clue as to the meaning behind what they’re doing, especially in areas like Paraguay, where the entire culture is “Catholic.” But the same can be found among Protestants. But if you would read the writings of the saints of old, or get to know the nuns and monks in your area, I think you’d be very surprised, humbled, and challenged by the depth of their faith in and Love of God.